Graduation
by TrenchcoatsAreSexy
Summary: Jesse's senior year of high school brings with it a new house and a new and old  friend... but how is he supposed to cope with drugs, drama, and Chemistry class, without dropping out?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"Thank you so much for agreeing to take him."

Jesse Pinkman heard the words through the walls of his aunt's bathroom; his ear was pressed against the wall and he felt a sense of being a little kid again, hiding from things he didn't quite want to face up to just yet. He had flocked in there shortly after their arrival, when his mother had announced that they hadn't just come to visit Aunt Jenny, but that this was where Jesse would be living as he was no longer welcome back at home.

"It's no problem at all," Jenny's voice replied, in its cool, crisp, somewhat floaty tones. Familiar tones, safe ones in a sea of uncertainty and, more than that, unbridled fury.

"He's impossible. I'm so grateful. We just didn't know what to do with him, Jennifer."

Mrs. Pinkman continued to bluster along, adding a few more apologies and layers of gratitude for her sister – "and considering everything, too" - to be willing to take in her disappointment of an older son, in part to take care of her given her worsening lung cancer, but as much so or more because Mrs. Pinkman had run out of places to put Jesse that were somewhere other than her own home.

She hadn't wanted to throw her older son out on to the curb, after all – even though he was eighteen, he was still a high school boy… And maybe, just maybe, he could get his act together. But Jesse's father would have none of that, and she couldn't really blame him. They hadn't been bad parents to him, not at all, and he had repaid them by constantly running with the wrong crowd, doing drugs, stealing things, and being an all-around problem child.

Their younger son, now, he was different. Jake was already showing signs of being, well, a prodigy almost. Mrs. Pinkman didn't quite like to use that word, it seemed a little boastful but, really, that's what he was – only five, and already so intelligent. So bright-eyed, so eager to learn – so unlike his older brother. Jesse had been a problem since the moment he was born, always a rambunctious child, getting into everything – he was the kid who would never sit still, was always sticking his hand into the light socket no matter how many times you told him _no_. Jesse seemed to take _no_ as a challenge, one he would gladly accept, rather than a prohibition.

Sometimes Mrs. Pinkman felt it was a wonder they had decided to have a second child at all after their experience with Jesse.

Now, Jenny had always said to her that Jesse wasn't a bad kid; every time they would visit, she'd gush over him even while Mrs. Pinkman flushed and apologized for whatever his latest indiscretion had been.

She was at the point now where, if Jenny liked him so much, well, she could have him – but why she'd want him around, especially while she was dying, was anybody's guess.

"Janet, please," Aunt Jenny replied calmly. "It's no problem at all. I'm sure Jesse and I will get along splendidly. You can go – we'll be fine."

Jesse could see the light flush of Jenny's hand as she insisted, as if he was watching the conversation instead of merely eavesdropping. He heard a few murmured goodbyes before the door latched and the car drove away.

He reluctantly unlatched the bathroom door and walked out, stepping out on to the carpet and trying to shake off the dressing down he had gotten from his parents before he had been deposited on his aunt's doorstep. As he did, he considered the situation as he looked up at the woman whose house had become his own.

Jennifer Carlow was six years younger than her sister and had an appearance and a life rather different than Janet's. While she was also blonde, she kept her wavy, silky hair longer than her sister's, and she was taller and more slender. She had always stayed single, while her sister had married Adam Pinkman straight out of secretarial school and had Jesse about two years later. She had spent her life going between different careers; for a while she had been a flight attendant (or "stewardess" at the time), afterwards a manager for a local hotel, and most recently, before she had gone on indefinite sick leave, an elementary school teacher.

"Well?" Jenny asked as she looked at her blue-eyed nephew and smiled. Jesse raised an eyebrow and looked back at her, unsure of what to say.

"Well what?" he inquired, his energy seeping out of him at the realization that his parents had actually followed through on their threats to kick him out of the house. He had finally pushed them too far this time – there was no going back. It wasn't even fair. He hadn't done anything that bad. In fact, he couldn't even remember what he had actually done this time – it had been a week or so ago when he'd done it, and every little thing he had done since (not picked up after himself, left the garage door open, got caught smoking) had been another notch against him until, this morning, they had put their collective foot down.

"Well, what do you want to do?" Jenny pressed, smiling again. Jesse blinked and looked back at her. Maybe this living arrangement wouldn't be all bad. "I know you have friends and a life, and I'm not going to take that from you. There will be some ground rules, though. This isn't a flophouse." She paused, grinning. "But… in the meantime… Monopoly?"

"Monopoly?" Jesse's eyes lit up for a moment, before he lowered them again. "I dunno, I never win at that."

"Does anyone ever really win at Monopoly? How often does anyone finish a game? They tend to go on forever, don't they?" Aunt Jenny made her way to the bookcase in the cornered and retrieved a large rectangular, shaking it as she smiled. "Want to find out?"

"Sure, I guess," Jesse replied. "By the way… what's a flophouse?"

"I'm… not sure exactly," Jenny said, moving to the carpet and setting up the board. "But I know that this isn't one."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Jesse and Aunt Jenny were tied at four houses each – and Jesse was about to buy a railroad - when there was a knock at the front door. It sounded like someone was making a halfhearted attempt to tap "shave and a haircut, two bits," in fact.

"That's probably the mail… Could you get it, Jesse?" Aunt Jenny inquired, gesturing with her head to indicate that getting up from her cross-legged position might be a little harder than getting into it had been.

"Sure, no problem," Jesse replied, standing up in a swift motion and walking over to the door. It was odd, he thought to himself, that he responded to requests from his aunt so differently than he did those from his parents. Maybe it was because Aunt Jenny didn't nag at him, didn't snap at him… To say no to her would just be mean.

He opened the door and was surprised to find, instead of the mailman standing on the step, there stood a slim, short girl around his age, with long, dark-brown hair and glasses, dressed in a pair of khakis and a green T-shirt with white writing proclaiming the initials of "O.U.".

"Oh! Hi!" she exclaimed, looking a little surprised to see him as well, "I just wanted to drop off this package for Ms. Carlow." She extended a small white-and-blue box to Jesse. "The postman delivered it to my house by mistake yesterday."

"Okay," Jesse replied, "I'll give it to my aunt." At his words, the girl narrowed her eyes a moment and snapped her fingers.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "Jesse Pinkman?" He blinked a moment before he realized that the girl had looked familiar in a way that he hadn't bothered to try and put his finger on. Then it all clicked, and he wondered why it hadn't before.

"Deanna Escobar," he replied with a nod. "You still live next door?"

"Haven't gone anywhere. Where have you been?" Deanna teased. "I haven't seen you since grade school… Well, I think, at least. I guess I figured _you_ moved."

"No, I've still been around. I guess we just haven't had classes together," Jesse replied. That they hadn't run into each other made a lot of sense – Deanna, even back in grade school, had been an ultra-brain and Jesse a slacker who didn't show up half the time (at least from fifth grade on) and never did half the work even when he did, preferring to sit in the back, sketching and daydreaming.

They had been friends, somehow, despite the difference. They had kept ending up in each other's classes, sitting in the same rows, and walking the same way home from school.

In elementary school, it was a chance of random selection to end up in a class together, whereas middle school and high school tended to be split up by ability – so when seventh grade had rolled around, the two stopped cropping up in each other's line of sight. If Jesse thought hard about it, he was pretty sure he'd caught a glimpse of Deanna going about her business somewhere in the meantime, either at school or when he was visiting his aunt, but he couldn't place it.

Deanna hadn't changed very much, physically, since Jesse had last seen her. He knew that if this were some kind of teen romance movie (not that he was into any of those), the gawky, mousy-haired girl would have shed her glasses for contacts, put her hair up and be sporting a rockin' bod, but other than being a bit taller and looking a little older, Deanna was still gawky and mousy as she ever was.

"Yeah, well," Deanna quipped, putting her hand on her hip. "You shouldn't be a stranger." She jerked her finger in the direction of Jesse's yard. "I live next door. You should come by one of these days when you're visiting your aunt. I miss you."

"I missed you, too," Jesse replied, sticking his hand in his pocket – though he wasn't quite sure if the words were true. He couldn't really remember actively thinking about Deanna in the years since they'd drifted apart. "And I'm not visiting, I moved in, yo." He moved one foot back, hoping she wouldn't insist on asking why he'd moved in. There was no part of that he wanted to talk about, not with anyone and particularly not with someone he hadn't talked to since his idea of rebellion was sitting behind the house and pretending to smoke candy cigarettes.

"You did? Then you really have no excuse!" she continued as Jesse reached out and finally took the box from her. "It's not like you don't know where I live. Anyway, I better get back."

"Yeah, you must have some new… chemical theories or something to go discover," he replied flatly. Jesse's sarcastic jibe got a good-natured laugh in response.

"My dad's the chemist, not me," she responded, pushing her hair over her shoulder. "I'm don't know if I'm really looking forward to Chemistry this year – can you imagine if I mess up? Pretty embarrassing, right? But thanks. I'm honored." She placed a hand to her heart and smirked, then paused before adding, "But anyway… See ya soon, I hope." Deanna waved and made her way back off the ledge before walking down the sidewalk and crossing her own yard, disappearing out of Jesse's view.

"Who was at the door?" Jenny asked as Jesse returned to the game, sitting down and gazing at the board and flicking his stack of fake money with his fingers.

"Deanna Escobar. She had this package for you," Jesse said, handing his aunt the box, which she placed off to the side.

"Nice girl," Jenny replied, smiling.

"Yeah, I guess." Jesse shrugged. He stared down at his fingers a moment, flicking the cardboard back and forth as he wondered how much he himself had changed.

_Not at all,_ he decided finally, but couldn't figure out whether that was good or bad.

"All right, I'm gonna buy this railroad. Vroom vroom, yo."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Jesse looked up at his ceiling as he awoke, instantly missing his old room. At home – his old home – the walls had been plastered with his posters of rock bands and comic book characters, and he could have told a story about every inch of the place.

_Here's where I banged my head when I was nine,_ he could have recalled. _And here's where the marker never quite came off when I decided I should draw a mural when I was five. _

It's not as if his aunt's house didn't hold any memories for him at all – he had spent a great deal of his childhood visiting on the occasional weekend, running through the halls and being warned to not use his watergun in the house.

He could remember playing with Deanna and the other kids in their adjoining backyards, now, something he hadn't thought about in years.

"_I call Silver Snakes!" Deanna proclaims as she climbs up the ladder and reaches the top of the slide. _

"_Okay, okay, well I get… the purple parakeets," a boy chimes in. _

"_I choose Jesse!" _

"_You always choose Jesse – you like him," the boy replies. _

"_Shut up!" _

"_Okay, okay – I choose Ricky."_

"_You always choose Ricky," Deanna mimics annoyingly, "You like him!"_

_The argument turns into a mini-brawl, with Deanna and the boy both weakly slugging each other before both fall down the slide. _

"_Betcha can't climb all the way up the net in a minute, Dee," Ricky chimes in._

"_Betcha I can."_

_Deanna never can. _

_Jesse never can, either._

Jesse decided he needed to start making this room more his own. Once Jenny said it was okay – he didn't want to get thrown out on the street his first day here – he could tack up some posters (or maybe tape them up) and see if he could change the color of the room from white to something more interesting.

Because right now it all looked pretty fucking depressing.

He rolled off of his bed and opened his door, peeking his head into the hallway before knocking on the next door over – his aunt's room.

"Hey, Aunt Jenny?" he called. "You okay?"

The door opened a crack, a moment later, and Jenny stuck her head out, smiling at him.

"Yes, Jesse, I'm fine. If you want to go out, that's fine – I'll be all right. Could you come back by three to take me to my doctor's appointment, though? I'm not really so up to driving these days."

Jesse felt a pang of guilt at the words. He needed to keep his head on straight now, for his aunt. He couldn't just go ahead and be the screw-up that his parents were convinced he was.

"Sure, Aunt Jenny," Jesse replied quickly. "I'll make sure I'm back by three. Thanks."

He waved in her direction and then went out the door. He only had a week left to do what he wanted before he had to go back to at least pretending to give a shit. _Better make the most of it while it lasts._

* * *

><p>Jesse wasn't sure why he even bothered going to school, anyway. It wasn't as if any of the teachers actually expected him to learn anything. He had always been the kid in the back, writing down joke answers instead of actually learning the material. He didn't know what he wanted to do with his life, and stern talking-to's from his not-particularly-motivated guidance counselors the previous year hadn't cleared anything up.<p>

But none of that was important now – he was on his way over to Badger's. Badger, whose real name was Brandon Mayhew, was a drop-out from neighboring La Cueva High School – famous for being the alma mater of Freddie Prinze, Jr. and Neil Patrick Harris. Badger had made it to tenth grade before he had just stopped coming in; he had declared to Jesse later that he had decided school just wasn't on his "wavelength".

The two had met through one of Jesse's good friends at J.P. Wynne, Kayla Smits. Kayla was dark-haired, half-Mexican, and a knockout. She also had absolutely no romantic interest in either Jesse or Badger, which seemed to increase the amount of time that both wanted to spend around her, seemingly in the vain hope of changing her mind. How she had originally met Badger had been lost to time, but the three quickly became part of a group that smoked weed behind the local mall and played pool in Badger's basement on weekends.

Jesse made it to Badger's in record time. He could have driven it, but it seemed faster just to walk – it was only about six blocks away, after all. And he needed the wind in his hair, the sun on his scalp… he couldn't quite explain it, but he needed it just the same.

He rang the older boy's doorbell and waited, sticking his hands into his pockets. Badger had his own place, which was nice – it was an apartment that his parents paid the rent on, in the dim hopes of keeping their son out of trouble. They didn't seem to have much success, especially given that in the entire time Jesse and Badger had been friends – best friends, maybe even – he hadn't seen Mr. and Mrs. Mayhew once.

_Kinda like my parents,_ Jesse thought bitterly, but then he corrected that – that wasn't quite true. _Badger's parents just don't care. Mine do care, but hate me._

Badger appeared at the front, opening the door and waving Jesse inside with a sway that indicated that whatever was the flavor of the day, pot or booze, Badger had already dipped into it.

"Hey, Jesse, man."

Jesse walked on to the hardwood floor, smiling at his friend and looking around. Kayla was there, standing next to her best friend, a girl named Gia. She was pretty in her own right, a busty Italian girl with curly black hair and a sharp smile.

"Hey, Jesse," both of the girls sang out.

"Hi," he replied, "'sup?"

"Where you been?" Badger inquired. "I haven't seen you in, like, a hot minute." Jesse rolled his eyes.

"I've been around, man. Just… you holding?" He gestured with his hand, and Badger waved over someone out-of-sight from the back of the room.

"Don't you ever think about anything else other than weed, Jesse?" Gia asked with a grin. "I mean, come on. How do you expect to get anywhere in life?" Kayla snickered.

"Jesse's just gonna get by on his good looks," she retorted. "He's gonna be a male model."

"What good looks?" Badger asked, snorting. The figure who Badger had gestured to appeared, and Jesse recognized him as Levon Shads, another classmate from J.P. Wynne. He was very tall for an eighteen or nineteen year old (or whatever he was), at least sixty-four or six-five, rail-thin and caramel-skinned, with a shaved head. "Hey, Levon," Badger asked, reaching out to grab a joint from Shads' hand without preamble, "D'you think Jesse could get by on his good looks?"

"Nah, man, you scare the girls away," he replied jovially.

"Ah, fuck it," Jesse retorted, taking the joint from Badger and helping himself to a toke. _This is what life needs to be right now,_ he thought to himself, _just this simple. Nothing else. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

School began on a Monday; a cold and rainy Monday that seemed to be expressly designed to throw in Jesse's face that the blissful summer was over with and that it was time to get back to work – or get back to pretending to work at least, in Jesse's case.

He looked over his schedule, which had ended up crumbled in a ball next to his alarm clock at one point or another, and tried to keep track of the classes. There was Chemistry, first thing in the morning – well, that was a class he probably wouldn't see too much of; 7AM was seriously too early a time to wake up on any kind of a consistent basis.

After Chemistry was Homeroom – maybe he'd bother to roll in for that; after all, Homeroom was what mattered because if you got there in time for Homeroom, you were considered to be "there" for the day. As Jesse pulled off the shirt he'd slept in and pulled on another, he considered how stupid it was to set up the schedule that way – whoever taught the first class would probably have way fewer students than any other class, unless it was a porn-watching class or something.

After Homeroom would be English, followed by Gym and then, blissfully, lunch; afterwards he only had History and shop class. He'd tried to sign up for as many Vo-Tech classes this year as he could, but he had taken a number of them the previous years and he had gotten stuck taking a lot of the classes required to graduate in his senior year.

Shrugging off thoughts of how long the day was promising to be, Jesse changed the rest of his clothes and pulled open his door, walking into the hall and hearing his aunt walking in the kitchen below.

He walked downstairs, running a lazy hand through his hair to stop it from all sticking up, though it seemed pretty futile to do so.

"Good morning, Jesse," Aunt Jenny called, stepping out to the living room to meet him.

"Good morning," he mumbled.

"Breakfast?"

"Nah, I gotta get going…" He looked up at the clock. "Or else I'll be late already."

"Well, at least take a Poptart with you," his aunt suggested. "When's your lunch?"

"Around eleven, but it's always gross. So, yeah, I guess I'll take a Poptart." Jesse smiled and made his way into the kitchen, grabbing a foil packet and waving it. "I won't starve."

"Always glad to hear that," she teased back, leaning in to kiss his forehead. "Now, go – drive safe, okay? I'm always worried about you with that flashy red car of yours."

"I promise I will," he replied, grinning. "No drag-racing."

"There_ better_ be no drag racing."

* * *

><p>When Jesse eventually climbed into his car, he still had fifteen minutes before class started, which was good – J.P. Wynne was only a five minute drive from his aunt's house. At least he hadn't had to change schools – that would have sucked – or, even worse, do what a good number of his classmates had done, lie about their current address in order to stay in one school or change to another, which tended to follow with school officials coming in and quite unceremoniously kicking people out of school.<p>

Jesse figured he was going to get kicked out of school soon enough, anyway.

As he turned the corner, he caught a flash of red and blue out of the corner of his eye and turned his head.

Deanna Escobar was walking down the sidewalk, accompanied by an Asian girl with black curly hair, whose name Jesse didn't know. He considered just driving on by – _hell, why not, it's not as if I know either of them all that well_ – but then remembered how much it blew walking in to school when other people had cars, and pulled up next to them.

"Hey. Get in."

He reached around and unlocked the door to his backseat, swinging it open. The Asian girl exchanged looks with Deanna, with an expression of some muted worry, before Deanna grinned.

"It's just my neighbor, Jesse," she replied, grabbing the door and hopping in. "You coming, Maya?"

"Sure… Why not?" She climbed in next to Deanna and slammed the door.

"Sorry," Jesse apologized as he got back on the road, "Didn't mean to seem like, a total creepy old man, yo."

"You want a ride, little girl?" Deanna teased. "At least offer us candy next time, yeesh."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be sure to bring some lollipops next time," Jesse retorted. "What's your first class?"

"Chemistry," Deanna and Maya replied at the same time.

"Yeah? Me too." Jesse looked into his mirror and smirked. "All these years not having a class together and now… We've got one, right? Why the hell are we even in the same class?"

"Miss Simpson's on sabbatical," Maya piped up. "So there's just one class with Mr. White. They added a second class in the afternoon but they put all the Honors and Vo-Tech kids in the morning one since a lot of us leave early."

"Where are you leaving early to go?" Jesse inquired as he turned another corner.

"I'm in a Health Professions program over at the hospital," she replied.

"Wow… That's cool," Jesse said, "Yeah, I have Vo-Tech. Shop."

"I kind of wanted to sign up for shop," Deanna piped up, and Maya gave her a look. "What?"

"I don't want to picture you with anything sharp. It's just scary."

At that, Jesse quickly pulled into the parking lot and, nearly clipping a nearby car, pulled into a parking space.

The three unlocked their doors and walked in through the front entrance.

"Thanks, Jesse," Deanna said, "I appreciate the ride."

"Yeah, anytime… You just live next door, right? So… Why not?"

"Come on," Maya spoke up, looking at her watch, "We're gonna be late." They sped up (well, Deanna and Maya sped up, Jesse sauntered at a slightly less leisurely pace) and turned into Mr. White's classroom.

To their surprise, other students had taken up the majority of the seats already, with the exception of a set of one seat in the second to last row and two seats in the last row.

Jesse quickly chose one of the last row seats, while Maya grabbed a chair in between two girls, one with white-blonde hair and pretty blue eyes and the other a dirty-blonde with gray eyes and glasses. Deanna, somewhat begrudgingly, took the seat on the other side of Jesse.

A few moments later, the cacophony in the classroom died down (somewhat) as Mr. White entered the room – Jesse vaguely recognized him from seeing him around school, he looked fairly distinctive, if extremely square, with a moustache and brown hair styled into a haircut that Jesse thought should have been outlawed sometime in the 80's.

"Hello, everyone. Welcome to Chemistry. Let's start by calling roll."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"Pacey Anderson." The girl with white blonde hair in front of Jesse raised her hand. A few seconds later, Jesse began to zone out as Mr. White rifled off the names of students with last names from A to E, before arriving at Deanna. Jesse raised his head slightly as she raised her hand, then went back to examining his desk – whoever had sat there previously had carved an intricate, if obscene, design into the paint of the lab station that involved a naked man riding a tortoise, armed with a sword.

"Christine Morrison." The girl with dirty-blonde hair raised her hand, and Jesse cocked his head to the side, examining her from the back. She was pretty, if not quite as exotic as Kayla. Maybe choosing this seat had been a good idea, tortoise doodle not withstanding.

A few more names and then, just as Jesse had managed to drift into a pretty interesting daydream… "Jesse Pinkman."

"Uh, yeah, hey! I'm here!" Jesse exclaimed, raising his hand. A few people snickered, a girl with curly brown hair in the front row most prominently. Jesse shifted his head back into his seat and quickly curled under his arm. The people in this class were dicks, anyway, it wasn't like any of them were paying any more attention than he was. He spent the next few names trailing his finger over the outline of the man on the tortoise. It was pretty cool, actually – a tortoise was a pretty unique animal to ride into combat.

"Sherrilyn Sharons." The girl who had been snickering at Jesse raised her hand.

"That's Sherri," she announced.

"Of course," Mr. White replied with thinly veiled sarcasm.

"Thank you, Mr. White!" she chorused.

Jesse, meanwhile, turned to Deanna and whispered, "That's Sherri, Mr. White, and by the way, I think I need to stick my nose a little farther up your ass." Deanna smirked.

"Shhh…" she whispered back.

"You know it's true."

"Not saying anything."

"I haven't talked to you in years, but I guarantee you that you hate her just as much as I do," Jesse whispered.

"I do!" Maya chimed.

"Well, I have one vote."

"Maya Yang," Mr. White announced, and Maya raised her hand. "Okay, well, now that we've established that most of us are, indeed, here today, let's start talking about Chemistry."

"Shoot me now," Jesse murmured.

"Shush, Jesse," Deanna hissed back. "It might be interesting."

"Yeah, I forgot, school is interesting to _you_…"

"Jesse and Deanna," Mr. White declared. "No talking back there."

"Sorry!" Deanna exclaimed, sitting a little more upright.

"Oh, I'm going to have fun," Jesse whispered with a devious grin.

"I'm going to want to kill you by the end of this semester, aren't I?" Deanna asked. Jesse nodded.

* * *

><p>Jesse's second class of the day was homeroom. Homeroom, in his eyes, seemed to be a completely pointless exercise in sitting around doing nothing, which admittedly, wasn't all bad. At least in homeroom, there was no homework or assignments. He just had to drag his ass in there, vaguely on time.<p>

Homeroom was in an old Science classroom – not Mr. White's, but the one he'd been in for Biology back in tenth grade, which he had managed to somehow get a C in. The homeroom teacher was the Biology teacher, and Jesse couldn't remember his name. Something that started with a D or an E and sounded kind of Russian, but that was as far as he could recall.

Jesse again found himself directly behind Christine Morrison, and began to pass the time by looking her up and down – as much as he could from the back, at least. Jesse wasn't normally a big fan of blondes – he preferred girls with black hair, or at least dark brown – but she was pretty; her hair was curly and silky looking and, when she turned (with Jesse quickly looking away and tapping at his lab bench), he could see that she had pretty eyes, complimented by the glasses.

_Hell, yes._

This was going to be the best seat in the house. If he could only figure out a way in…

* * *

><p>Next was English, which was held in an old stuffy room upstairs with little ventilation and constantly rattling pipes. Jesse was already sure that he was going to go stir crazy by the end of the class; the clanking of the pipes was driving him nuts. He imagined it being like the <em>Phantom of the Opera<em>, which he'd caught on TV one night in his old house when he couldn't sleep – except it was the _Phantom of the Pipes_. Maybe he'd leap down one day in the middle of class and demand to be paid and to have exclusive use of one of the desks. Jesse decided that if he wanted Jesse's desk, he could have it. No way was he fucking with a guy who is trained in the art of the Punjab lasso.

Looking around the room, Jesse noticed a number of familiar faces, but only one "friendly" one – Kayla, and unfortunately she was a few seats away from him, in the same row but out of reach for either passing notes or catching a clandestine glimpse of her ass.

English was going to suck.

The teacher entered; she was a thin black-haired woman who looked as if she had graduated teaching school earlier that day. She was also kind of hot, but not hot enough for Jesse to have any desire to pay attention. He'd never understood the whole "hot for teacher" ideal, anyway.

However, that was where his mind was, and where it seemed destined to stay – in the gutter. He started by thinking about the teacher – Ms. Ashford, her name was, apparently – and continued by wondering what it'd be like if he had a threesome with both Kayla and the hot girl from his Chemistry class… Christy, her name had been. They'd all be on his bed, no, wait, they wouldn't, because he didn't even live in his house anymore… It'd have to be his bed at his aunt's, but, wait, his aunt would have to not be home because that would just be messed up.

"Jesse Pinkman?"

"Uh, yeah, hi, I'm here!" Jesse exclaimed, as some of the other kids snickered behind their hands at him. He shifted in his seat; why was he the center of attention so often today? Was it because he just couldn't _pay_ attention to save his life?

_Oh well, it's not that big a deal. It's just school._

He didn't really concentrate on anything the rest of class.

* * *

><p>If Jesse had had his way, the next thing on his list would have either been a "study release" or lunch, but as it was, the next class was Gym.<p>

"If I polled every student in the state of Albuquerque," he declared, "I think everyone would vote that they hated Gym." His declaration was addressed to the cluster around him, which consisted of his friend Paul Tyree, along with Kayla and Gia as well as Deanna, who had awkwardly flopped down in their circle but seemed as if she halfway wanted no parts of it and halfway didn't think any of them wanted her sitting near them.

"The state of Albuquerque?" Paul retorted, "Seriously, Jesse?"

"Wait, what did I say?"

"You said, 'the state of Albuquerque'," Gia agreed, "Jesse, you're an idiot."

"I meant the state of New Mexico."

"Yeah, sure, right."

"All right everyone!" a voice exclaimed, and Jesse looked up in surprise. A man in his mid-50s had just walked across the gym floor, dressed in blue shorts and sporting massive abs. Jesse couldn't help but be a little impressed. "Everyone shut up," he continued, even though Jesse hadn't heard anyone else talking. "I am Mr. Ehrlich. I am your gym teacher. This year, you are all going to get into shape, whether you like it or not!"

"And I _don't_," Deanna leaned over and whispered.

"No talking," Mr. Ehrlich declared again. "Everyone stand up."

Everyone begrudgingly did, with Jesse the last to get on his feet. Yes, this was a class that he would most definitely be skipping. Maybe he could get Paul, Gia, and Kayla to cut with him, and smoke weed outside the school. He could manufacture some doctor's note. Maybe he could even get Deanna to tell him that he had a case of polio or something. After all, he did give her a ride to school.

"This year, you are all going to pass the President's Physical Fitness Test! I am tired of being given a class of weaklings!" Mr. Ehrlich continued. "You will all try your best and you will do well – or you will fail, and you will be back next year while all of your friends have gone on to college!"

"Fat chance," Kayla mumbled to Jesse, "I'm getting out of this shithole one way or another."

"Come on, you guys," Gia told them. "It's not that bad. It's just a work-out."

"Okay, Gia, maybe it's nothing to you, since you're, like, Queen Athlete," Kayla retorted, "But the rest of us, we all suck."

"Speak for yourself!" Jesse muttered, and Kayla rolled her eyes.

"I'm going to call each of you by name," Ehrlich was continuing, "And you are going to do as many pull-ups as you can."

"On the first day?" Paul complained quietly. "Just go over the class like everyone else does."

"Mr. Tyree?"

"Uh, me? What?" Paul inquired, feigning innocence.

"No, you, shut up. DeShondra Andres, you're up first."

While people began to be called to run up and do pull-ups, the group continued to talk about the indignity of being forced to take gym at all.

"I heard JFK was behind it," Paul told them.

"Screw JFK," Jesse agreed. "He sucks ass."

"Deanna Escobar," Mr. Ehrlich called.

"Don't watch," she murmured as she walked up, which resulted in the whole group turning to gawk at her as she ran up and managed a miniscule jump before grabbing on to the bar, attempting to lift herself up, and succeeding in falling back down on her feet.

"Way to go, Dee!" Kayla exclaimed.

"Yeah, you go, Deanna," Gia agreed with a grin.

"Oh, shove it," Deanna retorted as she walked back to her seat. "I'm not planning on becoming a pro athlete when I graduate."

"Jesse Pinkman!"

"Shit… me already?" Jesse grumbled.

"Go get 'em, Jesse," Kayla mocked.

"Yeah, set the world on fire."

"Think of Kayla naked!" Gia encouraged.

"Not possible, 'cause he's never seen it!" Kayla fired back.

Jesse ran up and successfully did all of two and a half pull-ups before coasting back down on his feet.

"You'll need to improve, Mr. Pinkman," Mr. Ehrlich declared.

Jesse rolled his eyes and walked back to his seat.

He had a feeling he'd be hearing that a lot this year.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

The next period of Jesse's day was, thankfully, lunch, and he made his way to the cafeteria fast enough to grab a table relatively close to the food station. Paul, Gia, and Kayla each took spots around him, and before long Levon had slumped down next to Paul.

"I'm already done with this shit!" Levon declared. "And it's only the first day. Man, fuck this."

"Oh, give it up, Levon," Kayla retorted. "It's only the first day back. You've gotta wait 'til the end of the week. Otherwise you just look lazy."

"Even lazier than Jesse," Gia agreed. "And that's a difficult feat to accomplish."

Jesse promptly stuck his middle finger up at her.

"So are we even getting lunch you guys?" Gia asked in response. "I mean, I walked by and it definitely looked like something died on the plate."

"Yeah, um, no," Jesse agreed. "I'm just going to get a damn cheese pretzel." He rose from his seat.

"Hey Jesse, get me one," Kayla called, taking out two dollars.

"Yeah, me too," Gia agreed.

"While you're up…" Paul chimed in.

"Goddamnit…"

* * *

><p>"I'm already tired and I still have another class left," Jesse grumbled to Paul as he took his seat in History. "I don't even care about History."<p>

"Yeah, well, just look at it this way. Senior year, right?" Paul reminded him.

"And then what do I do?"

Paul shrugged.

"You know, I've heard this teacher is a little… intense," he pointed out.

"Intense?" Jesse asked, "What do you mean?"

"Like, he tells freaky stories that will give you nightmares."

Jesse scoffed.

"I'm not afraid of anything you could tell me."

He heard a little giggle and a snort from in front of him, and he moved up slightly to crane and look at who it had come from. Unsurprisingly, it was Sherri Sharons, who was sitting in the midst of a group of male and female students.

"Jesse, why are you even in this class?" she called back to him. "Didn't you drop out of school yet? Get started in an exciting career pumping gas?" Her friends snickered along with her, and Jesse rolled his eyes.

"What's it to you, bitch?" he retorted.

She simply laughed.

One of her friends turned and looked at Jesse, smirking.

"Nice clothes," she snarled. "Got any that aren't five times too big for you? Where'd you get 'em? Thrift shop?" Sherri burst out laughing.

"Yeah, the thrift shop!" she agreed. Jesse opened his mouth to reply.

"Dude," Paul cautioned him. "Not even worth it."

Luckily, they were saved by the teacher, a skinny, middle-aged man with a dark-brown beard, walking into the room.

"Hello, everyone," he said, "My name is Mr. Cameron, Coach Cameron, whatever you want to call me. Welcome to History."

"I hope," Jesse murmured to Paul, "That his stories give everyone nightmares."

* * *

><p>The last class of the day was Shop. Jesse's schedule had some kind of more impressive name for it, like Introduction to Woodworking or something similar, but everyone simply called it Shop.<p>

The only open seat near the back (Jesse had made a point of never sitting near the front, a habit started in ninth grade and held to firmly in the years that followed) was between two girls, both of which he vaguely recognized. To the left was a girl with pitch-black hair cut into a bob and to the right was a girl with brown hair that was cut even shorter. He tried to place their names but came up, ironically, short.

He slid into the bench and looked to either side, giving a little nod of acknowledgement.

"Hi. I'm Jesse," he told them awkwardly.

"Cara," the black-haired girl told him. "Cara Winchester."

"And I'm Leah Craigmile," the short-haired girl chimed in.

"Hey, I know you," Cara said after a moment, "You used to hang out with Deanna, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Jesse replied. "And I kinda do… again… I guess."

"Me and Deanna are like this," Cara said, crossing over her fingers. "She's cool."

Jesse grinned.

"Literally? 'Cause that'd be kinda hot."

Leah rolled her eyes and mimed hitting him in the head.

At that moment, the door opened and the sound of a cane hit the floor. They all looked up to see a man in his sixties with broad-shoulders and gray-white hair walking up to the chalkboard.

"I'm Mr. Pike. And this is Wood Shop. You all signed up for it. Or you didn't." He tapped the chalkboard with his cane. "We won't be using this. We won't be reciting rote bull from memory. We will be learning how to create." He looked around the room. "Get to know the two people on either side of you. You will be working in groups of three for most of this semester, because like it or not, in the world you have to learn how to count on others."

"That's us three," Cara pointed out, before she grinned, "In case any of us were, you know, having trouble counting or something."

"I'm in a threesome," Jesse quipped. Both Cara and Leah rolled their eyes.

"What are we going to do with him?" Leah inquired.

"We could light him on fire," Cara suggested.

"No," Jesse protested, "Don't light me on fire."

Cara cracked a grin.

"But we could light marshmallows," she pointed out.

"Why don't we light somebody else on fire, and I'll buy the marshmallows?" Jesse suggested.

"Okay," Cara agreed. "That's acceptable."

* * *

><p>Jesse's car roared into the driveway at ten past three. He was blasting the radio; it had just finished listening to a collaboration between Limp Bizkit and Xzibit which Jesse couldn't figure out if he loved or hated; all he knew was that it kept incessantly sticking in his mind.<p>

He pulled out his key, jiggled it, and put it in the lock, walking into the house.

"Aunt Jenny?" he started to call, but he quieted as he heard something coming from the living room. It was the sound of a piano. And a voice.

His aunt was singing.

"_We all dream a lot - some are lucky, some are not _

_But if you think it, want it, dream it, then it's real _

_You are what you feel _

_But all that I say can be told another way _

_In the story of a boy whose dreams came true _

_And he could be you…"*_

Jesse smiled. The song was familiar; his aunt used to play it on an old record player she'd had when he was growing up. He lingered in the doorway, silent, as he listened. Her voice was lilting, pretty – soothing. Safe.

He put his hands in his pockets and waited. And listened.

Things were going to be okay, here. They had to be.

* * *

><p>*Copyright Andrew Lloyd WebberTim Rice, 1969.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Jesse spent the night in, watching TV with Aunt Jenny and chatting with her during the commercials.

"So how come you agreed to take me in?" he asked, wiggling his can of Coke between his fingers. "I'm a pain in the ass."

Jenny chuckled.

"No, you're not," she replied. "It all fit and worked out nicely. I would much rather have you here than have some stranger come in and take care of me." She shrugged. Jesse hesitated.

"Am I going to even be any good at it, though? I mean when it… y'know, comes to it?"

She turned to him and smiled.

"Jesse, you worry too much. You'll do fine." Jenny gave him a gentle tap on the shoulder before turning her head back to the TV. "Would you like some popcorn?"

"Nah," Jesse replied. "I'm fine." His head was still reeling a little bit. Sure, this was fine. Of course this was fine, in fact it was nice. Jenny wasn't up his ass the way his parents had always been, telling him what he should be doing and what he wasn't doing well enough. But he was vaguely aware of some kind of feeling in the air that didn't quite sit right with him, like a ball that kept circling a basket but hadn't gone in yet.

After all, there was a separation between knowing that Jenny was sick, that she had cancer and was unlikely to make it through another year, and the reality behind it. Jesse had never been up close and personal with death, and he preferred to keep it that way. It had always chilled him to the bone, the thought of being there one second and then simply gone the next.

He didn't want to think that it was going to happen to her.

Jesse brushed off those thoughts and looked ahead at the screen. _Family Feud_ was on.

"Is it just me," Jenny commented, "or has this show grown considerably more risqué in recent years?"

Jesse craned his head.

"What was the question?"

"Something you don't want your partner to talk about while having sex."

Jesse blinked.

"Yeah, I think you're right. Maybe they're trying to keep up with _Newlywed Game_, though."

Jenny grinned and picked her own soda off the coffee table.

"Good point. And at least this isn't that awful show… what was it called? What's the one I hate, Jesse?"

Her nephew grinned widely.

"Goddamned _Tattletales_."

She snapped her fingers.

"That's it! That's the worst. I don't even understand the appeal."

"That one is really stupid," Jesse agreed. "I don't know, I like the one where the contestants have to stay up late. _Cram_. I learned the stupidest stuff from that show." He grinned again. "Would you go on a game show with me?"

Jenny chuckled.

"Maybe. It would depend on what I'd have to do! Nothing that has to do with eating bugs."

"Okay, deal," Jesse agreed. "I will never make you go on a show where either of us has to eat any bugs."

* * *

><p>Jesse spent the rest of the week trying to figure out how exactly he was going to win Christy Morrison's heart. He had begun to focus on and daydream about her in Mr. White's class, instead of paying attention to the man's lectures about carbons and proteins and whatever else he seemed to be on about on that particular day.<p>

She was truly pretty; he was drawn to her oval eyes and soft-looking hair. He could imagine looping his arms over her shoulders and pulling her near, breathing in her scent.

But perhaps what was most intriguing about Christy was the fact that she didn't seem to regard Jesse at all. It wasn't as if she noticed his interest and simply ignored him; he'd had that happen more than once and it had made him feel about an inch tall.

Christy, on the other hand, would respond to his smiles with a nervous turn of her head, as if she shouldn't be caught talking to him. He didn't understand it.

Maybe, Jesse considered, she was being held captive by some kind of evil overlord, from whom only Jesse could save her. She slowly began to figure into the comics he drew, a damsel in distress.

But from what?

* * *

><p>"Hey, guys," Jesse began as he plopped down at the cafeteria table on Day Four of Operation Christy-Watch. Paul, Gia, and Kayla looked up with vague interest. "Do any of you guys know Christy Morrison?"<p>

Kayla snorted.

"Are you trying to hit that?"

Jesse looked mildly offended.

"I just like her," he replied.

Paul cocked his head to the side.

"I wouldn't."

"Wouldn't what?"

"Wouldn't bother," Paul explained. "Christy's got issues. Loads of 'em."

"What kind of issues?" Jesse inquired. He reached down and scooped up a bag of Funyons.

"Well, I don't know the whole story, but last year she went out with some senior guy who my brother knows. Anyway, he… beat her up or hurt her or _something_ and, well, no one's getting near her. So don't bother. Find some other girl to try your game on, Pinkman, because you're not getting anywhere with Christy Morrison."

Jesse bit his lip and considered it.

"We'll see about that."

* * *

><p>Jesse liked challenges. Actually, no, he didn't. He hated challenges, because he had a distinct tendency to fail at them.<p>

So why, exactly, had he decided that he was going to keep on trying to get the girl's attention, even after Paul had warned him against it?

_Because I'm an idiot,_ Jesse told himself. _And because I just like her. _

And he did. On Day Five of Operation Christy-Watch, Jesse flipped open the notebook that he had set aside for Chemistry and which contained within it exactly three lines actually about Chemistry.

He noted that Christy seemed friendly with a few of the other girls in the class – she'd waved hello to Deanna and Maya but seemed to talk the most with Pacey Anderson, the girl with short blonde hair and bright blue eyes, who was in turn, as far as Jesse could figure out, a good friend of Maya and Deanna's.

Keeping track of girls was exhausting.

Jesse knew Pacey; or rather, he knew _of _Pacey. They were two people who had never and would never travel in the same circle. She was extremely religious – in fact, as Jesse sketched in his notebook, she was in the midst of an argument with Mr. White about evolution. How had they gotten on the subject?

Jesse had missed that part.

"I shouldn't have to learn this if I don't believe it. Or we should teach both and let the students decide, Mr. White. Don't you think so?"

"Miss Anderson, if you want to debate the merits of Darwinism, I think you'd best do it in Biology class with Miss Franklin," Mr. White was telling her. Jesse looked up at him, and was struck for just a moment at how completely tired the man looked. As if he'd been up all night, every night of his life.

Jesse figured it was the price to pay if you decided you should become a high school teacher.

_We're all a pain in the ass, _he told himself, thinking of the conversation with his aunt.

Well, it was unlikely he'd get an introduction to Christy through Pacey.

He'd just have to approach her himself. Which might turn out to be easier said than done.

Jesse looked back down at his notebook. Life was way more complicated than Chemistry, anyway.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

The next week melted by, ever so slowly. Jesse, to his own surprise, found himself regularly attending class. It wasn't due to any great love of learning; rather, he just found that he didn't really want to let Jenny down. Not to mention, he was growing to enjoy the short rides to class with Deanna and Maya, where they spent most of the time bad-mouthing people at school who they didn't like.

On this particular Tuesday morning, they were discussing Sherri.

"Bitch and a half," Maya declared. "I mean, seriously. I heard her bragging about all the schools she's applying to. I hope she doesn't get into a single one. And that she cries about it, too!"

"Wow," Deanna said with a grin. "You're not, like, bitter at all – are you?" She leaned over to look at Jesse. "How's your aunt doing, Jesse?"

His hands tensed on the steering wheel.

"I don't know. All right, I guess." He didn't know whether Deanna and Maya knew that Jenny was sick, and he really didn't want to be the one to tell them. Saying it out loud would make the whole thing real. And she didn't really _seem_ sick, not yet at least. He figured once she started chemo, then that was when things would get…

He brushed it away. Didn't want to think about it.

They pulled up into the parking lot and got out, before walking to Mr. White's class. This time, they were on time. Unfortunately.

"All right, class. Pop quiz."

Jesse groaned and peeked over at Deanna, who gave him a glare.

"No," she mouthed, and he turned his head away, only mildly offended. After all, what the hell did he care if he passed the damn class or not? Chemistry was just a waste of time anyway.

Jesse scribbled his name at the top of his paper, then the date: 9/11/01.

* * *

><p>Jesse's throat was dry. He couldn't believe it. He was staring at the television screen with everybody else, but the only thoughts that seemed to stay in his mind were that if this was the end of America or the end of the world or something, he should rush home and make sure that his aunt was okay.<p>

What if the hospitals shut down and she couldn't get there? What if she got so scared that she made herself sicker and died while he was sitting in English?

He wished he could open his mouth and talk to Kayla about it, but everyone was quiet, silent, in shock, and he couldn't break the moment. It was just too hard. Plus, as cool as Kayla was, she just didn't seem the type of person he could talk to about something like this.

Before long, parents started showing up to pick up their kids. Kayla's mom arrived when the classroom was about a third full, and she gave a little wave of encouragement to Jesse.

He just kept staring at the board.

What the hell? He wasn't ready for this kind of thing. A terrorist attack? That was something that only happened in movies, wasn't it? None of it seemed real.

None of it seemed real until the door opened and his aunt walked in. She looked shaken, as nervous as he was, but otherwise okay.

Maybe he could have signed himself out. Could he have? He wasn't sure. Everything was kind of spinning. Everything just seemed totally wrong.

* * *

><p>"How are you holding up?" Jenny's voice floated across her living room, reaching Jesse about halfway.<p>

"I don't know," he mumbled. "Is this even real? I don't even…"

She was standing next to him, then, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"It's going to be okay. We're both okay, aren't we? Everything will be set right, somehow or another. A lot of horrible things happen, Jesse. But good things happen, too. Don't they?" She smiled. "You have to take the horrible, scary things or else the good stuff doesn't mean as much."

She sat down next to him on the couch and put her hands in her lap.

"I was a little girl when President Kennedy was shot," she told him. "It's one of those things where everyone remembers where they were. I was sitting in class. Second grade. Your mother was in eighth. The teacher, well, I don't know how she heard, but she drew all of the blinds and told us and it was as if someone in everyone's family had died. It was as if somebody reached over and shut off all of the lights."

Jesse watched her as she spoke. There was some kind of authority about her, but a quiet authority. She didn't need to scream or yell or belittle. She just spoke, and Jesse would always listen.

He let his head fall to his shoulder. It was too much effort to keep it up. How was he supposed to figure any of this out? It was like there had been some switch when he had turned eighteen, that now he was an adult and that should have meant that he had some answers. But he didn't.

Maybe no one did.

"Aunt Jenny?" Jesse whispered.

"Yes, honey?"

"You're… you're gonna be okay, right?" In that moment, he wished he was young again. That she could lie to him, tell him that it'd be fine.

Instead, she reached out and took his hand.

"Everything's going to be all right," she told him. "There's scary things up ahead, but I know you can make it through."

He shook his head. He didn't know.

He wondered about his parents, if they were wondering about him. Whether Jake knew what was going on and if he'd gotten frightened over the whole thing, too. But he wouldn't call them. They wouldn't want to hear from him. They'd sounded so done, so final when they had dropped him off.

Jenny reached out and patted Jesse's back.

"Let's just take it one day at a time, okay? I'll make a pot of coffee and we can watch anything that isn't the news."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Jesse was surprised at how quickly everything seemed to get back to normal. He had expected time to stop, or something, some drastic change, some Apocalypse where people would be selling ration cards on the black market.

But J.P. Wynne rolled back to its normal routine, albeit with a few more rumors of war and buzz about what it would mean for everyone. A few students professed wishes to join the Armed Forces, while a few others were already digging their heels in as fledgling anti-war activists.

Jesse, a little shaken, went back to his previous goal of trying to get Christy to talk to him, with no success. He'd smile at her in the hall, and she would rush on by. He'd try to attract her attention in Chemistry or Homeroom, and she would just ignore him with a worried glance away.

This somehow served to only deepen her mystery to Jesse. She wasn't like the other girls. She lacked the foolhardy confidence that Kayla and Gia embodied, and had none of the astute awkwardness of Deanna. He couldn't quite pin her down, or figure out how to get through to her. Nor could he really figure out why he wanted to so much in the first place.

"What's Christy's story?" he asked Deanna one morning, as he drove her to school. Maya was absent that day; apparently she was visiting family in Las Cruces.

"Just leave her alone, Jesse," Deanna replied, exasperated. "I'm not getting into it, but Pacey says she's been through a lot." Jesse rolled his eyes.

"Pacey," he groaned. Deanna reached over and gave him a little slug on the shoulder.

"Pacey's great. She just comes on a little strong. But anyway… just leave Christy alone. Be nice to her. I swear, Jesse, if you get that girl upset I will take you and throw you off a bridge."

* * *

><p>"So, Aunt Jenny… I have a question."<p>

She looked up from the book she was reading. _Clotel_, it was called.

"Sure, Jesse," she replied. "Go ahead and ask."

"How do you get a girl to like you? I mean… if she doesn't seem interested, exactly, but not… uninterested, either."

"Well," Jenny suggested, flipping another page and looking over at her nephew. Jesse had his knee of the couch and he had leant in, listening curiously. "Just be yourself." Jesse groaned.

"Be myself? But who would be interested in me? There's nothing all that cool about me. I mean, other than the car."

Jenny rolled her eyes.

"Jesse, you are a good kid." She reached out and weekly squeezed his shoulder. "Any girl would be lucky to have you. But why are you interested in a girl that doesn't seem to like you? Why don't you go date Deanna? I think she's had a crush on you since you two were nine years old and pulling each other's hair."

"Deanna?" Jesse considered it, before shrugging. She didn't have any of the glitz and intrigue of Christy, or of the other girls he'd been interested in. She was pretty weird, and kind of a know-it-all besides. She was a cool friend but… "Nah," he deduced eventually.

Jenny shrugged.

"Suit yourself, Jesse. You know I won't tell you what to do."

At the words, he felt his lip curl into a smile. That was right; she wouldn't.

* * *

><p>He turned to head up the stairs and back into his room, but he paused on the second step, his arm curled through the railing.<p>

"Aunt Jenny?"

She looked up again.

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

"Mr. Pinkman, I'm sorry if you aren't getting adequate sleep at home, but you are not allowed to sleep in this class."

Jesse opened his eyes and raised his head, looking around.

"Huh?"

His gaze zeroed in on Mr. White, who was looking at him with an annoyed and faux-patient expression.

"Oh, hey," Jesse continued, slinging his hand over the lab bench and sending Deanna's pencil and notebook to the floor. "Sorry… I just… yeah."

"Well, Mr. Pinkman," Mr. White continued, "If you'd be so kind to tell us the answer to the question I have on the board. That would be great. I assumed you learned it through osmosis while you were sleeping on Miss Escobar's notebook."

"Uh… I can't," Jesse replied, rubbing at his eyes.

"You can't." Mr. White repeated the phrase with a sharp curve to it, and Jesse wanted to flog him in the head. Why was he being such a dick? Jesse couldn't have even been asleep all that long.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry."

"All right. Well, Miss Morrison?"

Christy looked up, a little dazed-looking.

"Would you like to tell us the answer?"

Christy looked around, murmured something unintelligible, and stuffed her face back in her binder.

As Mr. White walked back to the front of the room, Jesse could have sworn that he'd heard the man let out a hell of a sigh.

* * *

><p>Jesse was awoken by the ring of the phone the next day – was it a Saturday? Or had he just forgotten about class? He was already forgetting and it was still only September. Or maybe it was less forgetting and more not caring. It was fatigue.<p>

He scooped up the phone, not bothering to check the Caller ID. If he was another damned telemarketer calling to bother his aunt, he could always hang up on them mid-sentence. There was a sort of perverse enjoyment to it. They were just a goddamned pain in the ass. He would never do that job.

"Hello," Jesse called in a bored voice.

"Jesse. Yo. It's Badger."

"Hey Badger." Jesse's voice brightened considerably. "What's up?"

"Not much, brother man. But I haven't seen you in a hot minute, you know."

"Oh I know, I know," Jesse replied. "But… you know how things get. Places to be and hot women to fuck." He kept his voice low; he was surprised at the flush of embarrassment he felt at the possibility of his aunt walking in and hearing him talk like that. "Been busy."

"Apparently. You still doin' the whole, y'know, school bit and all?"

"I guess," Jesse replied with a yawn. "What about you? What've you been up to?"

"Oh, same as usual. Just blazin' one and keeping the party alive." Jesse rolled his eyes. Badger's idea of "keeping the party alive" generally just consisted of their small group of friends passed out drunk in Badger's house. Or, even more often, just Badger passed out drunk (and on a good day, high) in Badger's house. But still.

"You free tonight?" Jesse asked. He needed a break from all this shit that kept roaming around in his head. If he could stop thinking about all of it or, hell, just put it on pause for a little while, then he'd be just fine.

"Aren't I always?"

"Alright. See you in ten."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Jesse lay on Badger's bed, staring up at the ceiling. He had just taken a toke off the joint they were passing, and he was waiting for it to kick in. Waiting for his thoughts to settle. Waiting to figure it all out.

He wished he could open his mouth and say something to Badger about everything with his aunt, not to mention all this shit that had just happened with the terrorist attack. But Badger wasn't the kind of guy who talked about stuff like that, he was the kind of guy you played video games with and smoked with.

"Y'know," Jesse mused. "They said that Marilyn Manson got his ribs surgically removed so that he could suck his own dick."

"Wow, man," Badger commented. "That's far out. Would you ever do that?"

Jesse snorted.

"No, man. That's fucked up. Who would want to suck their own dick, anyway? I mean, you end up with a mouth of your own damn…. That's just disgusting." He sat up. "What the hell is wrong with people?"

Badger started to laugh hysterically.

"Hey man… hey man… what if you got offered like… a million dollars to do that…"

Jesse curled up his nose.

"No. Man… Badger. Shit, I've got standards." He took another toke. "A man has got to have goddamned standards."

* * *

><p>"Well, Mr. Pinkman, what do you think the answer is?" The words seemed to be floating in mid-air. Maybe they were happening in a separate dimension that only intersected with this one every once in a very long while. Maybe… "Mr. Pinkman?"<p>

Jesse felt someone jab him hard in the spine, and he lifted his head. Deanna appeared to be the one who had poked him, and when he looked the other way, he found Mr. White standing uncomfortably close to him.

"Mr. Pinkman?" Mr. White asked.

"Um," Jesse muttered. Deanna drummed on her notebook. Jesse made another little grunt, wishing she'd stop distracting him from not-answering, until he slowly realized, as he turned to look at her, that she was tapping a very specific part of her notebook. "Uhhh…" He tried to be discreet as he strained to read Deanna's handwriting. "Nitrogen."

"Thank you, Mr. Pinkman. Nitrogen. Thank you for your effort."

Mr. White shot a glance at both of them, before going back to his lecture. When he finally glided to the front of the room, Jesse looked back at Deanna.

"Thanks," he mumbled. She sighed and rolled her eyes, not replying, and returned her gaze to the teacher. Jesse rubbed his hands over his face. He couldn't believe he'd been sleeping in class again. It was so embarrassing, not because he really cared whether he learned anything but because he could feel every eye in the classroom on him, thinking about how useless and worthless he was. He shivered. He shouldn't have stayed out all night, should have at least had the ability to pretend to pay attention. He'd try and get some sleep tonight. This wouldn't happen again. Plus, he didn't need Mr. White calling Aunt Jenny. She had enough to deal with right now without getting burdened with all of Jesse's continuing failures.

* * *

><p>Speaking of Aunt Jenny, she wasn't doing very well at all. The doctors' visits multiplied, that was for sure, but Jesse didn't see that they were doing any good. The chemo just seemed to be getting her sick, even as she tried to explain to Jesse that it would help.<p>

"It's just a side effect, Jesse," she explained patiently as he drove her home one day the next week. "You see, it kills the cancer cells but other, similar cells get kind of… caught in the crossfire."

Jesse tilted his head and looked at her.

"Why don't they come up with something that… doesn't do that?"

Even though he knew that Aunt Jenny wasn't like that, he was afraid that she would say it was a stupid question and refuse to answer it. Instead, she smiled sadly.

"Things like that take time, Jesse. Why, everything takes time."

"But people don't always have time," Jesse whispered. What he thought but didn't say was, _You don't have time._

That was when he pulled into the driveway and they moved out of the car, silently going back into the house. Once the door closed behind them, Jenny reached out her arms and hugged Jesse.

"Don't worry," she told him kindly. "I'm not scared."

When she let go, Jesse gaped at her.

"How can you not be? I mean… You're… you're… I mean, all of this."

She shrugged.

"You know when your mother and I were growing up, she used to be afraid of going downtown in the city?"

Jesse didn't know, but he nodded anyway.

"She was always worried about getting mugged, or something of the sort. What I used to say was 'If something's going to get me, it's going to get me.'" Jenny looked at Jesse. "If this is going to get me, Jesse, then worrying won't do a single bit of good. It'll just waste time. I'm going to just live my life and be happy instead of worrying and being afraid. It just feels like a better way to live, don't you think?"

Jesse nodded slowly. He didn't know if he necessarily agreed with all of that. He was glad she didn't seem to dwell on it, but just the same he didn't know if he could ever be that unafraid in the face of upcoming death. Hell, if it had been him… He'd have fallen apart. He'd have stopped going to class even as irregularly as he did because what would it matter anymore? And he'd wait for someone to fix it all. But no one would be able to fix it. He'd just be all alone.

He shuddered. That was the scariest thought. The one thing that no one could ever help you with, the one thing you are just always stuck with alone: death.

"Hey Jesse," Jenny said softly, "Why don't we see if we can find an awful movie on TV? We could make fun of it. And I could make quesadillas."

Jesse smiled and slowly nodded.

"That sounds great, Aunt Jenny. Let's go for it."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Jesse had a dream about when he was young. Very young, five or six, and he'd been in this very house. Maybe even in this very room, but probably not. It was probably still a random guest room back then, and he had rarely stayed overnight given that they lived so close.

In the dream, his parents still loved him. Jake hadn't been born yet; he was their one and only. Their Jesse. Everything was warm and safe and good. He could smell cookies baking from down the hall, and he ran down the steps and into the kitchen.

It was so close that he could feel it, taste it…

He burst awake, sat up so fast that he nearly fell over and off the bed.

Obviously this whole thing had been getting to him. That was the only answer he could come up with. This whole… situation with his aunt, and with his parents kicking him out, it was… he needed to not let it get to him. It wasn't like he could actually do anything about it, after all. His aunt was either going to die, or she wouldn't. His parents would come to their senses, or they wouldn't. It was all entirely out of Jesse's control.

He sighed and looked at the clock. It was too early to go to school, but too late to go back to sleep if he had any pretense of actually showing up on time. This sucked ass.

Jesse made his way into the shower. He figured that was a way to start on a good note. Maybe he'd impress "the ladies" – maybe he'd impress Christy by making sure he smelled good, had his hair right, took more time picking out his clothes. Did he even own anything that looked nicer? Maybe that was the key. The way to be a better person, a person who other people wanted him to be. A person… oh, what was he kidding? Who the hell was he even, at eighteen?

He turned the shower over to the hottest setting and watched how it turned his pale skin bright red. There was something to that, the way it made him feel. Maybe he wanted to hurt a little, maybe some part of him felt that he should. He didn't know.

Next was dressing, getting ready and going downstairs. He'd see how Aunt Jenny was doing. Maybe today would be a good day. He'd hurry home today instead of going over Badger's or trying to score some booze or weed. Today, he'd do things the right way.

* * *

><p>Jesse had drawn a dragon across his lined paper. He was filling in some fire, using a random red pen he'd found somewhere in his binder, when Mr. White appeared, as if out of nowhere.<p>

"I'm sure that this is incredibly relevant to our lecture, Jesse," Mr. White opined, and Jesse bit back a response. He wanted to snap at him, ask him why the hell he cared and tell him that he had shit going on in his life that was way bigger than chemistry. What the hell did this have to do with life and death? With shit that actually impacted people for real?

"Yeah," Jesse mumbled darkly. "It is."

"Would you like to share your… artwork… with the rest of the class?"

Jesse peeked over to see Deanna with her hand on her hip, looking at him with a disappointed look on her face. Well, forget her. Forget all of it.

But wasn't today… hadn't today been the day that he was going to do it all right? The day he was going to make the right choices? Apparently those right choices hadn't included paying attention in Chem. He lowered his head a little and made a sound. A near growl.

"I was just drawing, yo," he mumbled finally. "Sorry for not paying attention." He didn't look at the teacher, didn't feel that he could without flying into a rage or worse – so, so much worse – tearing up or breaking down. God, it made him sweat to think of it, the thought of letting the mask slip and letting them all see that inside, the happy-go-lucky face was all that, a face, a mask, a fiction, a…

Luckily Mr. White found himself distracted by something else. Jesse didn't pay attention long enough to what it was, simply slumped back into his chair and didn't look at anybody.

He caught a faint scrap of conversation, of Maya whispering to Pacey, "Is he all right?" but he couldn't focus on it. It was blurry somehow. The edges were creased. There was something in his chest, like he couldn't quite breathe.

He didn't want it, didn't want…

* * *

><p>He couldn't really remember what happened between that point and that in which he returned home to Aunt Jenny's house. When he opened the door, however, there was a clarity, a realization, a renewed promise to do things the right way this time.<p>

"Hi, Aunt Jenny," he called. There was a shake to his voice. Maybe it had all been too late. He'd seen movies like this, hadn't he? Those movies where they made the right choice in the end but they had screwed everything up so badly that it didn't matter anymore. Where all the people started yelling at the hero, because he wasn't even really a hero. He was just a pathetic loser.

"Hi, Jesse!" Jenny called back. He saw her enter the room in shuffling steps. She had slippers on. There was a small of tomato sauce from the kitchen.

"Are you cooking?" Jesse asked. His voice had gone up a few octaves in surprise and relief that she was okay. This wasn't a movie with some fucked up moral at the end. This was real life. He had chances.

"That's right, Jesse." Jenny replied happily. "I decided to make a pot of spaghetti. First day that I've really felt up to eating much of anything since this whole thing started. Would you like some?"

Jesse swallowed. It was like there was a rock in his throat.

"Sure, Aunt Jenny. I… I would love some."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

One Saturday in November, Jesse climbed into his car, destination unknown. Maybe he would go see if Badger had found any good weed, or maybe he would try and get into the bar – they were usually pretty good about not carding.

He was surprised to find himself slowing down in front of a stop for the city bus as he caught a glimpse of Deanna, Maya, and Pacey standing there. He honked his horn.

"Hey!" he called out his window. "Maybe I could give you girls a lift." In his head, it had sounded suave. Outwardly, it sounded something like, "Want a ride, little girl?"

Pacey opened her mouth, looking reluctant, but Deanna piped up, "Sure!" She reached over and opened the passenger side door.

"Uh, Deanna…" Pacey began, "My mother…"

"Oh, come on, Pacey," Maya urged her, opening the back door and sliding over into a seat. "Live a little. She doesn't even have to know! She doesn't even know you're going to this movie in the first place. You definitely don't need to tell her you caught a ride with Jesse Pinkman."

With a sigh and a look around, Pacey climbed in and sat beside Maya.

"Oh?" Jesse asked as he put the car back into Drive. "What's so bad about me?"

"Pacey's mom thinks you're a juvenile delinquent," Maya piped up. "No offense."

"Then again," Deanna chimed in, "She's not even okay with her going to see Harry Potter."

"That's what you guys are doing?" Jesse asked. It seemed pretty innocent compared to what he and Badger and the rest usually got up to, but maybe that was kind of cool. If they wanted him along, that was – he shouldn't assume that anyone would really want him along anywhere – it might be neat to take a step back for the day and just do something normal and a little bit corny.

"Yeah. It's playing at the Multiplex. I heard Draco's going to be super sexy," Deanna gushed.

"Oh, forget Draco," Maya shot back, "I'm interested in Snape!"

"Snape's such a jerk though," Deanna replied. "Jesse, have you read it, or…?"

Jesse shook his head.

"No, I mean… But don't worry about spoiling me! I mean… Hey, why don't I come see the movie with you guys? I mean… If that's cool with you, I mean." Jesse rubbed at his nose as he drove down the road, towards the general direction of the movie theater, which was about a mile past the local mall.

"Sure!" Deanna said. Her eyes actually seemed to light up in the rearview mirror, which gave Jesse pause. Did Deanna Escobar, of all people, have some kind of crush on him? It wasn't like it would be a bad thing, but he and Deanna had been friends… they'd been off and on friends for such a long time that if that was true, wouldn't Jesse have noticed before now?

He brushed it off. It didn't matter. He was into Christy, anyway – that was something he still needed to work on. He would have to show her his true personality, show her that he could be… be what, exactly? Right now, he just felt like a stoner and a loser.

Well, Deanna liked him, at least. Jesse figured that ought to account for something.

"Sure," Maya and Pacey both agreed, though they sounded considerably less enthused. It was about ten minutes later when Jesse pulled into the parking lot of the theater.

"I'll buy us all huge butter popcorns," Jesse offered.

"Whoo hoo!" Pacey cheered. "Extra butter. Can we get extra butter?"

Jesse grinned. Maybe he was winning over Pacey, as well.

* * *

><p>"So if you went to Hogwarts, what House would you be in?" Deanna inquired as they walked out of the theater, half-eaten popcorn box still being passed between them. "I'd be a Ravenclaw for sure."<p>

"Gryffindor!" Maya chimed. "I refuse to even think of settling for less. Pacey?"

"Eh… Hufflepuff, probably."

"No offense," Maya said, "But I can see that. You're such a Hufflepuff."

"What about you, Jesse?" Deanna asked, shoving a handful of popcorn in her mouth and wiping her hand on her jacket. "I can see you as a Gryffindor."

"I don't know," Jesse admitted, climbing into the driver's side. Once everyone climbed into the car, he started off in the direction of home.

At least, so he thought.

"Hey, Jesse," Deanna spoke up about ten minutes later. "I think we're going in the wrong direction."

"No," he argued, "This is definitely the right direction… I drive up here all the time. I mean, you do a right on Main and then…"

* * *

><p>A half-an-hour later, a helpful sign informed them that they were no longer in Albuquerque.<p>

"How did you manage to get us so lost?" Maya inquired. "I mean, it's only a twenty minute drive!"

"I was sure that I made the right turn," Jesse replied. "Anyone have a map?"

"That doesn't sound promising," Deanna chimed in. "We need to find somewhere to ask for directions."

"I don't think we need to ask for directions," Jesse argued, "I mean… I'll find our way. I think we just need to…"

"Typical man," Pacey said with a sigh, "Never wants to ask for directions."

"Pull in here," said Maya, pointing to a sign. "It's a hospital. Someone should be around that we can ask for directions. Pacey, didn't you tell your mom you were only coming to the bakery with us?"

"Yeah. I think I'm grounded for sure. I need to come up with a version that doesn't have Harry Potter or Jesse in it."

"Your parents are way too overprotective," Maya replied, as Jesse took her advice and pulled into the hospital parking lot. He pulled up to a building with a large sign announcing that it was the Eating Disorders building.

"Uh," Deanna spoke up. "I think we're at a mental hospital."

"Who wants to get out and ask for directions? I nominate Jesse!" Maya chimed.

"Really?" Jesse argued. "Oh man… All right." He sighed and popped his door open, stepping out and walking up to the front door. He tested it, but it seemed to be locked. On the other side of the front window, a young African-American woman with long braids and a blue dress was sitting and painting a picture.

Jesse rapped on the window, and the girl stood up, walking away presumably to get somebody as Jesse stood there, feeling extremely awkward.

A few moments later, a nurse appeared at the door. She opened it and stepped outside.

"How can I help you?"

"Um… We were trying to find our way back to Margo Street, in Albuquerque," Jesse explained, "I think we took a wrong turn somewhere and now we're lost."

The nurse blinked at him.

"You're pretty far away from Margo Street," she replied. "Get on Central and keep going West. You'll hit it. Just pay attention to the exits."

"Oh, okay!" Jesse replied with a smile. "Thank you! Oh… and where are we right now?"

She looked at him.

"You're at a psychiatric hospital," she told him.

"I… Yeah, I figured that," Jesse stammered, "I meant what … uh, road or town."

"You're in Rio Rancho," the woman replied. "You kids are a pretty far away from home." She pointed out again. "That way. I better get back to, you know… my job."

She turned and walked back into the glass room, leaving Jesse there feeling more than a little silly.

"Quick," Pacey stated, "If we stay too long they'll probably realize we belong here."

* * *

><p>"So," Maya commented as Jesse pulled up in front of her apartment. "A twenty-minute drive somehow became three hours long, and we had to ask for directions at a mental hospital. But you know what… I had a good time."<p>

Jesse laughed and looked at her.

"Glad… to hear it? And Pacey… hope you won't get in too much trouble…"

Pacey shrugged.

"I'll just tell my mom I met Maya at the bakery and we decided to go over her house. Or that we took a really long time at the bakery."

"Sounds… I don't know. Sounds legit," Jesse replied. "See you guys in Mr. White's class tomorrow, I guess?"

"If you show," Deanna said dryly. "Or stay awake."

Ignoring her, Pacey looked at Jesse.

"You know, Jesse Pinkman… you're actually a pretty cool guy. Maybe you should be yourself a little more often."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Jesse let out a breath and watched it make a frost of the window next to his desk. If he wasn't sure that the teacher was watching him and only him (it was English class) as he thought about what he was going to do about Christy. It would be tomorrow; tomorrow he would make a move, ask her out and find out once and for all. If she said no, he'd just have to move on – he couldn't be a lovesick puppy forever. And maybe sometimes people just weren't meant to be.

He opened his notebook, trying to act as if he was paying attention to what they were currently learning about… what were they learning about, actually?

He shook his head. He was buried in homework and reading that he had been meant to do but had never got around to actually doing. If he had actually done any of it, maybe he would know what was going on right now – at least that was what his father's voice was saying in his head, over and over again. Jesse was just careening down an epic path of failure.

The least he could do was to successfully get a girlfriend, right?

* * *

><p>He started to think his plan probably wasn't a very good one when he walked into Mr. White's class the next day and, when he looked at Christy, noticed that she looked away nervously.<p>

He thought of what they had been talking about at lunch. Was it really true? It made him want to find the guy responsible and wring his neck if it was. Christy was just a kid, like him. She should be out having fun and chilling with friends instead of flinching at everyone.

"Hi," he called to Christy. He lifted his hand and gave a little wave, staying far enough away that she'd know he wasn't going to be creepy and try to touch her or anything like that. She looked down nervously, and Jesse went to sit in his seat. Pacey gave him a warning look, clearly indicating that if he said or did anything to hurt Christy, he would have to answer to her.

And Pacey did seem pretty tough, so the warning was duly noted.

Mr. White entered the room a second later and started talking all about electron shells, but as usual, it didn't keep Jesse's interest. He wondered when the hell anyone was expected to actually use any of this kind of stuff in real life. It wasn't like he was going to get Christy to like him by knowing what number of electrons went in each shell, after all. Only a real nerd would know that – Deanna probably did, even though she was kind of cool. But definitely a nerd.

Jesse kicked his feet boredly. He'd said "hi", which he figured was a start. In the movies, there always seemed to be some kind of witty pick-up line, but they seemed much more difficult to come by in real life.

Maybe he should just leave her alone. He didn't want to bother her, and she did seem nervous. He figured he would just say one more thing, friendly, and then leave her alone if she didn't seem interested. There was nothing good that could come from being a nuisance, after all.

He kept going back and forth on it and completely ignoring Mr. White's lesson. After all, this was the kind of thing that actually mattered in real life, wasn't it? Not carbons and particles.

Jesse started making a paper airplane, half paying attention to it and ending up with something that was pretty uneven but generally looked like a paper airplane was probably supposed to look.

Then he gestured in Christy's direction, trying to get her attention. Pacey looked back at him with a warning glance, as if threatening him again that if he hurt her, there would be hell to pay.

Christy turned and shyly looked at Jesse.

"Think I can hit Mr. White with this?" Jesse asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

"I…" Christy started, then looked around nervously. "I don't think you can."

"Wanna bet?" Jesse asked, flashing a big smile.

Christy looked at Jesse, then looked back down, then over at Mr. White.

"…I…sure," she stammered.

Jesse pinched his fingers on either side of the paper airplane, then slowly tossed it through the air. It hit the blackboard that Mr. White had been writing on, right above the word "electrons". Jesse quickly slinked right back into his seat and tried to act as innocent as possible. He peeked over to see Christy leaned over in a fit of silent laughter.

"Who threw that? Anyone want to come clean?" Mr. White demanded.

Jesse hid his head behind his desk, trying to stop from bursting out laughing. He was pretty sure that Mr. White could figure out that it had been him, and he was pretty sure that the man was now glaring at him with every bit of energy that he had in his being. However, Jesse was determined to play it cool. As cool as he could play it with his head wedged behind a desk and quivering.

He shot another glance at Christy.

"You missed," she said, and he was surprised to see a huge smile cross her face.

He waited until after class, then crossed over near her as she moved to head out of the room.

"Hey, Christy."

She turned and looked at him, blushing a bit.

"Jesse," she replied.

"I was… do you want to… I mean I know it's kind of weird but do you want to hang out or something? The movies or something?" Jesse asked, trying to figure out a work-around for "I barely know you and it seems like you don't even really trust anyone but I think you're super-hot."

He was sure that she wasn't going to react particularly well to whatever the hell he had just stammered out.

He could have fallen over when she smiled again, looked down and then up at him and said, "…Sure. Let's go to the movies or something."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

It was a little after seven o'clock at night when Jesse appeared on Christy's doorstep. He gave a gentle knock at the door and found himself hoping the Morrisons didn't put stock in the rumors that tended to fly around about Jesse; admittedly, some of them were true, but none of them were things he figured a couple wanted to hear about the guy taking their daughter out on a date.

He was holding a bouquet of flowers that he'd picked up at a shop around the corner. He didn't know how they ranked, exactly – flowers all looked pretty similar to him, after all – but he figured she might like them.

The door opened, and a tall, middle-aged woman with dark brown hair appeared.

"Hi. You must be Jesse," she said kindly. "I'm Mrs. Morrison. Christy will be right down. Come in."

Jesse's heart began pumping and he started to think that this had been a bad idea all along, that nothing good could come of this.

He stepped inside, looking around for anyone who might decide to shoot him in the face. He'd seen enough movies to know that most parents didn't want someone like him hanging around their little girls – the only one who didn't seem to have minded had been Deanna's dad, and that had probably just been because they were only friends. If he had started sniffing around in that tree he would probably get buried in some backyard somewhere.

Inside the living room was a leather couch and a TV set that was tuned to some kind of Lifetime flick. A woman was confronting her husband, saying that he was cheating on her, and he had begun to yell about how he had always been in love with his brother instead of with him.

Mr. Morrison, or at least the man he assumed to be Mr. Morrison, was sitting there with some popcorn.

"Hi," Jesse said nervously. "I'm here to meet Christy." He was suddenly hyper-aware of everything about himself from his hair down to his shirt, his shoes, the way he talked and how he walked.

"Yes," Mr. Morrison said, getting up. "She's told us about you." Jesse didn't know if that was good or bad.

"Oh," he said, figuring that worked as a response to either one.

"Listen, I just wanted to say… take good care of Christy, okay? I think it's good for her to have a…. friend… But I don't want her heart to get broken."

"I don't want to hurt her either, Mr. Morrison," Jesse agreed. He wondered if the man was going to pull out a shotgun and start raking the slide sometime soon. He figured that he had better talk fast. "I like her a lot. I mean, it's still really early but I… I like her."

Jesse was saved from having to speak any more on the matter by Christy descending the staircase. She was dressed in a blue blouse and jeans, and Jesse found himself pretty glad about that. He hadn't particularly dressed up himself, after all, and what the hell was he going to do if she had shown up in something like a prom dress?

"Hi, Christy," Jesse said, extending his hand. She shook it, then gave him a friendly one-armed hug.

"Be back by eleven," Mr. Morrison warned.

They started out to Jesse's car.

* * *

><p>"So, what do you want to go see?"<p>

Christy looked down at the floor, seemingly nervous.

"I mean," Jesse started, "I'm up for anything, I mean, movie-wise. Even something super chick-flick, I mean… I just think it's kinda cool, hanging out with you."

Christy turned and looked at him.

"Why?"

"What do you mean?" Jesse stared at her, mind-boggled.

"Why is it cool to hang out with me?" Her voice was rising a little bit, getting sort of shrill, like she was holding on to something. Jesse was still confused.

"I mean, um, well, you're nice, and… well, you're hot, too. That's part of it."

Christy laughed nervously.

"Hot? Seriously? That's the best you can come up with?"

Jesse shrugged.

"Well, yeah. I mean… I think so, at least. And like I say, you're nice. Some of the girls in our classes I mean… no offense or nothing if you're friends with some of them, but a lot of 'em are bitches."

"You seem to like Deanna."

Jesse shrugged.

"She's all right. We're friends and stuff."

"I thought you two were a thing."

Jesse laughed.

"Me and Dee? Nah… I mean… She's cool and all. But it's not like that. We're friends. From way back. We kinda grew up together. She knows my aunt and stuff."

"Ah," Christy said. She looked away for a moment.

"Listen, Christy, if you're not ready to hang out or whatever, that's cool," Jesse said. It sounded kind of weird, like he wasn't sure he wanted to do this anymore either, but he didn't think it was that exactly. The whole thing had just gotten kind of weird. He didn't know really what to say to her.

"No, it's cool," Christy said. "I just don't know that… I don't know if I'm ready, like you said, I guess."

Jesse wondered about that. It wasn't like they were doing anything that serious. They hadn't even gotten to the movie yet.

Maybe it was different, though, depending on who you were. After all, Jesse wasn't ready for a bunch of stuff himself – he didn't have a job, and he didn't want to get married and have kids or anything intense like that.

"Listen," Jesse said, dragging his hands over his face. "It's no big deal. I ain't going to be mad. If you want to hang, we can hang. If you don't, I can take you home. And I won't talk any shit. It's not like that. I'm not that kind of guy."

Christy looked at him with a sad smile.

"We'd be cool?" she asked. "I mean… I do like sitting next to you in Mr. White's class. You make that class more fun."

Jesse grinned widely.

"I promise to keep on driving that old man nuts."

Christy laughed.

"All right. I mean… The movie's okay. Just no…" She took a moment to gesture with her hands, "…Stuff."

"I promise you a stuff-free evening," Jesse replied. He extended his hand. "Shake?"

She shook his hand.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

When Jesse got back in, Aunt Jenny was sitting and watching TV. Jerry Springer, to be precise.

"I didn't even know this was on this late at night," he commented, taking off his jacket and hanging it from a doorknob.

"It's a marathon," Aunt Jenny explained, "They're showing the wildest episodes or something like that."

"Isn't it all fake?"

She shrugged.

"What isn't? I think everyone's a little fake when they have to be. If everyone was their real selves one-hundred percent of the time, everyone would be killing each other 'cause no one would like anything anyone else told them."

Jesse sat down beside her.

"You're probably right."

"How did you date go?"

Jesse shrugged.

"I don't think it's going to work. Not as a boyfriend-girlfriend thing. I don't know what it is she wants."

"You should give her time to figure that out," Jenny told him, "Don't give up on her so easily."

"But I don't know what I want either." Jesse looked down and kicked one foot with the other. "So it's probably better to just… not. Maybe we could stay friends. She's a good person. I like her. I just never know what to do. It's not… there's something off about it all."

"Jesse… You have to do what's right, and if something isn't right, you have to do what's right… But you also need to make sure you can't find fault with everything, because you're not letting yourself be happy then, either… Does that make any sense?"

"It does," Jesse replied, "But… I don't know. Maybe now isn't the time. I mean it's high school. I shouldn't be looking for anything serious. People don't get married out of high school anymore, and thank God."

Jenny laughed.

"That's right. If I had married my high school sweetheart, well…" She trailed off.

"Well, what?" Jesse asked. "You know, you never tell me anything about what you and Mom were like when you were growing up." He scratched at his ears. "Hardly ever, at least. Was she always so…"

"High-strung?" Jenny asked with a grin. Jesse blushed.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Well, not always. But when she was a little kid she was always a girly-girl, and I was like… a weird hippie artistic type of kid. I always wanted to go to art school. I think that's where you get it from."

"Why didn't you go? To art school I mean?"

Jenny shrugged.

"There's never enough hours in the day, Jesse." She looked at him and took his hand. "Don't let anything stop you from fulfilling your dreams, okay? Because sometimes you turn around and it's too late."

Jesse swallowed hard. He didn't want to cry, not now. Not like this. She had a point – his whole life was ahead of him. Everything he complained about seemed insignificant.

"Okay," he whispered, "I promise. All right. I'm going to go out and be who I want to be."

* * *

><p>The next day at school, Jesse shot a smile and a wave in the direction of Christy.<p>

It wasn't going to work out, but that was okay. There were a lot of people out there, after all, and it was pretty unlikely to find the love of one's life in high school. That was, if Jesse even wanted to find the love of his life. He didn't want to be in some cheesy romance novel, after all. He wanted adventure and excitement, wanted to live large while he still could. He couldn't really picture himself settled down, not now. Maybe one day. But he wouldn't be like his parents. They were slaves to that ideal.

He didn't want to wake up every day wondering what he would be like if things were different. He didn't want Christy to grow up into his mom and he into his dad, having one perfect son and one rough draft. Would he then turn around and have to deposit one of those sons on the doorstep of Jake?

No. He wasn't ready for that, never wanted to become that. However his parents had gone wrong, or gone right – he didn't really know, based on whose opinion? – that wasn't the way that he wanted to go. He knew that much.

"Jesse!" He was interrupted by Deanna hissing behind him. Mr. White had called on him yet again, and yet again, he hadn't had anything to offer other than a confused look. Jesse had made up his mind by now that he was likely going to fail chemistry, and he was kind of okay with that.

When was he really going to need chemistry, anyway? This life stuff was way more complicated than bonds and reactions, but it didn't seem like there were going to be any classes teaching him how to handle that stuff. Or how to make lots of money in a quick amount of time.

But just the same, he was supposed to say something. And as much as he tried to come up with something witty or sarcastic to say, nothing came to mind.

"Uh, could you ask that again, Mr. White?" he managed instead. Mr. White looked at him and shook his head.

"Jesse, you need to pay attention," he chastised, and it looked like he wanted to say more. Instead, he finished up by simply saying, "Jesse, can you tell me how many protons are in sulfur?"

Jesse looked back and shook his head.

"Uh… No, Mr. White… I… I don't."

He was surprised that he felt embarrassed to admit this.

* * *

><p>"Jesse," Deanna nagged at him in between classes, "You know, you could be pretty smart if you actually bothered to pay attention."<p>

"What are you, my mother?" Jesse inquired. His head was on a swivel, and he was already trying to plan out something else. He and Christy hadn't worked out, but that didn't mean that he was going to spend his whole senior year single, or chaste, or whatever else people might be thinking of him. "Who's that girl over there?" He was pointing to a tall, thin girl with short brown hair.

"That? That's Leah Craigmile. You know, the girl who can't stand you."

Jesse smiled at her.

"That's what you say now."

"No, that's what she says all the time." Deanna put her hands on her hips and sighed. "Do you have some kind of plan?"

Jesse pretended to tweak an imaginary moustache.

"But of course, Dee. Of course."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

Jesse was lying down in bed when the phone rang. He pulled his pillow over his head and groaned. He had been sleeping for hours, but it didn't feel like he had gotten any sleep at all. He scurried further under the blanket and tried to trap himself in a tiny fort, keeping all light and sound out.

"Jesse!" his aunt called, and Jesse sighed. He waited another few moments before he heard the call again, and he pushed the blanket off and hopped up. He pulled pants on over his boxers and went out into the hall.

"Huh?" he called to Jenny, and she smiled at him.

"It's your mother on the phone," she told him, and he rubbed at his face with fatigue.

"I don't want to talk to her," Jesse told her. "I don't have anything to say to her."

Jenny pulled a face.

"Jesse, my dear. Come talk to her. For me. Do it for your lovely, favorite aunt."

Jesse pulled a similar face in response.

"Okay, okay." He shuffled over and took the phone out of Jenny's hand. "Hey."

Mrs. Pinkman's voice came through on the other line, but it was awkward and slow-coming.

"Hi… Jesse. How are you doing?"

"I'm… uh, okay. How about you, Mom? How are you?"

"I'm… doing good. Jakey is doing great. He's top of his class."

Jesse ogled, even though he knew she couldn't see him.

"In kindergarten?"

"Jesse, don't laugh. It's important to start children off right. He's so smart. He's really going places. If only…" she trailed off.

"If only I could have been like him? Is that what you mean? Well, I guess you got the rough draft out of the way before you could move on to the good copy. And now you can crumble up the rough draft, throw it away and never think about it again."

"Jesse! Do not talk to me this way. You don't understand."

"What don't I understand?"

"You don't understand being a mother, and wanting your children to grow up in a way that makes you proud of them. And getting to a point where it's…"

"Where it's what?"

"Where you realize you can't do anything, because they're choosing their own way. And then you just hope that they'll come back the right way."

Jesse wanted to slam the phone down, but he didn't want to upset Jenny. He was rooted to the spot, listening to this, even though he didn't want to. He didn't want to hear it all over again.

"Just let me go, then," he mumbled.

"Why would you say something like that, Jesse?" his mother asked. "There's no reason to say something like that. Your father and I do a lot for you, and it's hard to keep all our balls in the air sometimes, especially when you aren't helping us."

Jesse laughed, because it was all that he could think to do.

"Balls in the air," he quipped. His mother mad a disapproving noise.

"I hope you're doing well, Jesse. Don't you run Jenny ragged or you'll regret it for the rest of your life." The next thing that Jesse heard was the dial tone.

* * *

><p>When Jesse arrived in Mr. White's class that morning, he was still fuming.<p>

"What's going on, Sasha?" Deanna asked him, and he turned to stare at her in confusion. Deanna snickered.

"Spyder Games. It's a soap opera on MTV. It's quite addicting."

"And there's a girl on it named Sasha?" Jesse asked, not quite grasping it still.

"No, it's a guy named Sasha. He's super cute. A lot cuter than you."

Jesse looked at her again with sudden interest. Was it true, as he suspected from time to time, that Deanna has some sort of crush on him? He was mildly flattered, but didn't really know what to think about it. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with Deanna, per se, but she wasn't the kind of "hot girl" Jesse usually was interested in. She was a friend, and that was as far as it went.

"Wow, I'm just going to go home and crawl into a hole now, Dee," Jesse said dryly. "I don't know how I can live anymore, not being more attractive than a guy on MTV."

Deanna mimed a tear running down her cheek.

"It's a horrible world out there. All we can do is cope."

At that moment, Mr. White walked into the room, scanning the students with a look in his eye like he was going over his life and trying to figure out where he had gone so wrong.

"Pop quiz," he announced. Jesse cursed under his breath. He didn't know if Mr. White was married or what, but if he was, his wife must be giving him a hard time and he has to take it out on the students. If he wasn't, well, Jesse guessed he was mad that he wasn't getting any.

He looked over at Deanna with a plea in his eyes. Couldn't she just take the quiz for him or something? She would know what was going on. She had paid attention during all of this stuff. Shouldn't he have done the same thing? But his mind had been elsewhere, and as Mr. White handed out the papers, Jesse looked around desperately for something on the walls that would give him an answer. Some clue. Some burning bush, some sign from beyond that would help him. Because he definitely needed it.

"Jesse, eyes front," Mr. White instructed as he put a piece of paper in front of him.

Jesse looked down at the paper in front of him. It was blurry, and it seemed like all the words were some other language. Even the ones that had previously been familiar seemed to be spelled wrong, and he started scribbling them out and trying to write them over again some other way, the way that they should be spelled.

His pencil was ripping through the paper.

He hadn't even managed to get his name on there properly. His hand hurt, and his head started pounding. How did Mr. White expect him to do this? Expect him to be here?

He stood up, wadded the test into a ball, and threw it to the ground.

Then he turned around and walked out.


End file.
